


a light that never goes out

by stellaris



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, feelings with a dash of family fluff, post-trk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6974188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaris/pseuds/stellaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I love you</i>— it was such a simple, small combination of words. Less than five syllables. It would take Adam less than two seconds to speak them aloud. </p><p>But two seconds wasn’t enough. Three syllables wasn’t enough. Adam wondered if there were any words in any human language that could properly encapsulate every single thing he felt for Ronan, but he could not think of anything that came close.</p><p>(Adam and Ronan, after.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a light that never goes out

Everything was different, and everything was the same.

It was an odd thing, Adam thought, to return to school that next Monday. As if nothing had ever changed, as if Gansey had not taken his last breath for the second time, as if Ronan did not scrub the black muck from his skin in Adam’s tiny sink until there were only red, raw marks left behind. Blood rushing to the site of injury. A sign of life.

Life — what a fleeting thing it was. What a powerful thing it was. Adam had not truly known the fragility of it until he’d nearly wandered too far scrying in that small hole, until Persephone quietly died alone, until his own two hands were pressing into the hollow of Ronan’s neck. 

 _No,_ Adam thought. _That was not me. That was never me._

But it still felt like it _was._

Ronan doesn’t bring it up, and Adam, despite everything, was afraid to. How desperately he wished to say, _how can you even look at me?_ But he knew the answer. Ronan forgave him for the same reasons that Adam secretly scryed in the backseat of the BMW, unable to bear Ronan’s pained gasps while his hands writhed against his constraints and against his will. It was—

“Love,” Gansey mused, and Adam startled a bit in his seat next to him. All at once, the sounds of the morning rush slowly came back— chairs sliding, lockers closing, hurried footsteps down the sunlight hall. Another morning spent at Aglionby. He’d nearly forgotten— everything was still the same to everyone else. 

“What?” Adam asked, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the low rumble of conversation around them. His eyes flitted briefly to the empty seat diagonal to his.

Gansey stretched and flexed his fingers, expression pensive. “I’d been wondering how it was that I could be revived for a second time,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across the top of his palm. “It should have been impossible, but you all made it possible. It was—”

“— love,” Adam finished. Gansey gave a solemn nod, and rapped his knuckles on top of the empty chair in front of him. They both knew that it would not be occupied again. 

“I’m so grateful to have you all,” Gansey said, and looked up at Adam. “I just wish—”

“I know,” Adam assured him. 

Noah. They hadn’t known it until they’d returned to 300 Fox Way in the aftermath of it all, when Maura greeted them with a solemn, complicated sort of expression. She’d gathered the five of them in the kitchen, offered them — more specifically, offered Gansey — some wellness tea out of habit, and once Calla came down, told them what Noah’s fate had become. Or, perhaps what it had always been. 

Blue was the first to react. Adam had expected her to break down into sobs— she was arguably the closest to Noah, after all— but she didn’t. She’d only made a small, horrible sound in the back of her throat, raised a hand to her trembling mouth, and allowed two silent trails of tears to fall from her eyes. 

Gansey was more visceral in his grief. Just like when they’d pulled over at the rest stop after finding Glendower, dead, he sunk his head into his hands, curled into himself as much as he could in his chair. His shoulders shook with silent, shuddering breaths— Blue wrapped her arms around his waist, and Adam found that he couldn’t bear to look at them any longer. If he had— he didn’t know. All he knew was that somebody had to remain strong, an anchor in a merciless sea, and he couldn’t afford to be unraveled further. 

Henry, for his part, remained quiet and did not ask any questions, and Adam was grateful for it. He’d made a note to himself to remember this about Henry— respectful without having to be asked, supportive when he did not owe anything to them, especially not him and Ronan. And yet there he was— a silent squeeze of Adam’s shoulder as he passed by to crouch beside Blue and Gansey. 

Ronan had not made any sound at all. He did not move. He barely breathed. He only stared straight ahead, towards the large beech tree overseeing the backyard, his face flushed with the effort of trying not to cry. In that moment, Adam realized, there was little else in his world but loss, loss, loss— and Ronan was a fractured mirror, about to break. Opal buried her face into Ronan’s thigh, murmuring something quietly in Latin, and Adam slipped his hand into Ronan’s, squeezing as tightly as he could without hurting him. 

The world had stopped then, but oddly enough, everything around their small axis continued on as they usually did. The birds outside still chirped at the next sunrise; an impatient driver still cut Adam off on the way to school and irately laid on his horn as he blew past him. Didn’t they know? Adam wondered angrily, perhaps a bit foolishly. Of course they didn’t know. Glendower was dead, Gansey died and lived again, and Noah was gone for good. Ronan was sleeping back at Monmouth, and Adam was here with Gansey, waiting for their French teacher to show up for class.

Everything was different, and everything was the same.

x

Ronan only wore high-collared shirts for the next two weeks.

Adam tried to act nonchalant about it, as Ronan seemed to be content to do, but he couldn’t. Not at all. He could still see purple in the shape of a finger— _his_ finger — peeking out from underneath his collar every time Ronan turned his head, or bent to pick something up. Just the sight of it sent Adam reeling back into the memory of that horrible, horrible moment— a memory he wished never existed in the first place. The worst memory of his life.

 _That was not your fault,_ he tried to tell himself, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling of shame, of disgust, of regret, regret, regret. 

He did not want to talk about it, but he could not stop himself from staring at Ronan’s covered neck as he worked in the backyard. Was this how it was going to be, now? Looking at Ronan and only seeing his worst moment branded across his skin, even after the bruises eventually disappeared. It couldn’t— Adam wouldn’t allow it. He did not want to feel this way anymore. He did not want to carry a burden that should have never been his to begin with.

He left Opal to play with Chainsaw and a bag of carrots, stepping outside and onto the deck. He raised a hand to his eyes as he looked up to the sky— big, puffy clouds crawled lazily by, the thick humidity in the air a silent promise for a late-night thunderstorm. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked over to where Ronan sat on the steps, and watched him work for a few minutes before he finally said, “You’re hiding it from me.”

Ronan didn’t look up from the plank of rotting wood he was trying to dismantle from the railing. “What?”

Adam looked down at his shoes. He had to say it. He had to let it go. “What I— your neck,” he clarified. 

Ronan froze. Slowly, he let go of the wood and looked up at Adam, his hand unconsciously coming up to rub at his collar. His voice was unnervingly quiet as he said, “I don’t want you to look at it.”

Adam felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. How many times had he thought the same thing, when he’d missed too many days of school and he had to go in with long sleeves, even though it was too warm for them? How many times had he covered up a bruise after someone noticed, already rattling off a practiced excuse? Too many. Much too many. 

“Adam,” Ronan called, and Adam startled a bit at Ronan’s hand brushing against the inside of his wrist. “Don’t.”

Adam shook his head. “But I— I could have—”

“No,” Ronan argued fiercely, “Not you. _It._ ”

Adam only stared at him. “If they hadn’t stopped me— _it_ — what would have happened, Ronan?”

Ronan did not answer— just averted his eyes down to the grass, narrowing his eyes. Something terrible settled in Adam’s chest. He’d already known the answer before he asked, and Ronan just confirmed it. He would have let the demon make Adam kill him. He would have chosen death.

 _Why?_ Adam wanted to ask— but he knew the answer to this question, too. _Forsan haec olim meminisse juvabit. Unguibus et rostro._ Love. 

He reached out and wrapped his arms around Ronan from behind, leaning his forehead against the curve of his neck. He brushed his lips lightly where his collar ended and his skin began; Ronan shivered against him, hands coming up to cover Adam’s, and squeezed, once, twice. 

Adam mouthed the words, _I’m sorry_ against Ronan’s skin, just to free himself of it, and closed his eyes.

x

When Adam woke up, there was only this: Ronan quietly breathing next to him, dim morning sunlight peeking through half-closed blinds, the knowledge that Opal was fast asleep just ten steps down the hall. Chainsaw, exercising her vocal cords enthusiastically across the rolling hills of the backyard. Himself, tucked against Ronan’s sleep-warm side, one arm resting comfortably against his chest. 

It was peaceful and oddly comforting in a way that Adam wasn’t sure that he’d ever felt before. For so long, it had been just Adam Parrish, one man wrecking crew; his fierce independence and the little control over he had over his life were the only things he could claim to his name. He so clearly remembered the days where he would wake up and lie deathly still in his bed, listening carefully to see if his father was awake yet. He remembered waking up alone and staring up at the fractured ceiling of his tiny apartment, feeling both lonesome and like it was yet another day of him against the world. 

But that was no longer true— now, it was Adam and Ronan and Opal, his small, strange found family. It was Gansey and Blue and Henry, his very best friends that just a few years ago, he didn’t think he’d ever find. It was Adam no longer depending on only himself— it was Adam sharing his life with others, with Ronan, and it didn’t feel like a compromise. It felt like a hard-won battle, like privilege, and Adam never wanted to let it go. 

Suppressing a yawn, he carefully lifted his arm off of Ronan and stretched, groaning softly as his joints popped appreciatively in response. How much he longed to stay and just spend the day in bed, but he’d volunteered to take the first shift down at the shop. His savings account wouldn’t fill itself.

Just as he was about to sit up, he saw the bedroom door slowly creak open out of the corner of his eye— Opal. She poked her nose through the opening, her dark eyes questioning. Adam gave her a small, groggy smile and waved her over.

She scurried over to the bed quietly — or, as quietly as one with hooves for feet could — and wormed her way between Adam and Ronan, dragging along the blanket Blue made for her out of ten different fabrics. Strangely enough, Ronan didn’t even stir at the movement; he must have stayed up late last night, again. 

Opal leaned her face close to Ronan’s, her curious eyes roaming over his peaceful face, all of his sharp edges sanded and smoothed. Adam watched, amused, as a devious little smirk stretched on her lips. She grinned and looked to him, raising a finger to her mouth in a silent _shh_ gesture. Adam only raised an eyebrow in response.

She reached over slowly and, like a cat approaching its prey, hovered her hand over Ronan’s nose for one, two, three seconds— and quickly clamped his nostrils shut with her fingers. 

Ronan’s eyes flew open immediately, panicked and owlish, and he started so violently he nearly sent himself reeling off the bed. “What the fu—” he began, but stopped himself once he registered Opal’s gleeful laughter and swatted her hand away with a sour look. “Real funny, you brat.”

Opal giggled into her hands, and Adam could not stop the smile spreading on his lips. “It is,” she sang. 

Ronan looked from her to Adam, his frown deepening. “You were in on this?” he asked, clearly betrayed.

Adam shrugged. “She instructed me to be quiet. Can’t argue with that.”

Opal leaned back against Adam’s knees and flashed him delighted smile. She said to Ronan, “Adam’s not a fun-sucker.”

Ronan scoffed, “Adam doesn’t try to kill me in my sleep.”

“I wasn’t— _hey!_ ” Opal shrieked. Ronan had reached out and pinched her nose shut in retaliation, and she was clawing (futilely) at his hand. 

Adam leaned over and tugged at Ronan’s wrist. “Ronan,” he chastised. 

Ronan gave an indignant snort, but he let go. Opal bounced backwards from the recoil and let out a small whine, rubbing at her reddened nose. “Not so fun anymore, is it?” he smirked.

Opal sniffed and stuck out her bottom lip in a defiant pout. “That’s not fair. You’re way bigger than me.”

“Tough. Attacking me when I’m sleeping isn’t all that fair, either,” Ronan said, crossing his arms. 

They stared each other down, neither of them willing to submit to the other. Adam was reminded again of how similar Opal was to Ronan— he could easily recognize that same stubbornness glinting in her dark eyes, the very same he’d seen time and time again in Ronan’s. Opal may be an entity of her own kind, but she was still his dreamt creature, through and through. 

Adam also knew that if he let them continue to go at it, they’d be here for hours. “Opal,” he called, wrapping his hand around her forearm and squeezing lightly. “Go get something to eat.”

“Actual food,” Ronan added, not once moving his eyes from hers. “Not weird shit like tree bark.”

Opal simply said, “No.”

“Opal,” Adam tried again, making his voice softer this time. “Please?”

Opal’s mouth twitched, and he knew he had her. “Fine,” she said, and finally looked away from Ronan to Adam. Ronan smirked in victory; she pointedly ignored him. “Only ‘cause you asked nicely.”

She quickly leaned down and pressed a sloppy kiss to Adam’s cheek, stuck her tongue out at Ronan and hopped off of the bed, her hooves click-clacking noisily against the wooden floorboards as she hurried out. 

Ronan groaned softly and threw his arm over his eyes. “She’s going to be one hell of a teenager.”

“Like you are?” Adam asked, amused. He briefly imagined Opal, grown into her own, donning leather jackets and ripped jeans with holes bigger than her head. He just hoped she wouldn’t pick up Ronan’s filthy mouth, at the very least. 

Ronan shrugged and poked one eye out. “Like me, like you— anything she wants. Except the street-racing,” he mused. “Definitely not that.”

“Hypocrite,” Adam teased.

“Fuck off.”

Adam laughed and shuffled closer, wrapping his arms around Ronan’s waist and pressing light kisses along his collarbone. A pleasant, warm sort of thrill ran through him at the sight of Ronan’s skin prickling in his wake. Five minutes. He could stay for five more minutes.

Ronan’s throat rumbled against Adam’s hearing ear as he muttered, “My lips are up here, Parrish.”

Adam rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move. “Ask nicely,” he said, echoing Opal’s words just moments before.

“You’re kidding.”

“Am I?”

Ronan groaned, “Come _on._ ”

Four more minutes. Adam heaved a tired sigh and turned his head away. “I guess I’ll just get ready now, clock in a few extra minutes overtime.”

He moved to roll off the bed once more, but Ronan’s hand clamped around his wrist, pulling him back down. Ronan lifted himself up and hovered over Adam, brushing his lips lightly against the shell of Adam’s ear as he murmured, “ _Please_ , Adam.”

His warm breath ghosted over Adam’s skin, raising goosebumps. Adam tried to keep his voice even as he teased, “Was that so hard?”

“Can you please just fucking kiss me already?”

Adam grinned, unguarded and true. “Okay,” he whispered, leaned in, and pressed his lips to Ronan’s, softly. Three minutes.

Up until this point, he and Ronan had kissed so many times it was senseless to try to think back and count them all. But, no matter how times they did and would again, Adam knew he would never tire of this — the feeling of Ronan’s warm lips moving with his, of feeling lighter than he’d ever thought possible, of feeling so very _alive_ in a way that burned through every logical thought in his mind.

He could do this forever. He _wanted_ to do this forever.

Two minutes. Adam could feel his skin heat up underneath Ronan’s touch, his pulse quickening as Ronan kissed him harder, deeper— 

“Ronan,” he rasped, and tried to lift Ronan’s jaw from his descent down Adam’s stomach. His head felt cloudy and warm. “I— I have to get ready.”

Ronan hummed in response, but he didn’t stop. “I’ll be quick,” he murmured against Adam’s skin, kissing along the light trail of hair stemming from his navel. Adam’s heart quivered in his chest, his hands fisting in the sheets as he bit down on his lip, hard.

One minute. He decided he could sacrifice the time it took to take his morning shower— at this rate, he would have to. “Ronan,” Adam breathed again, but this time, he did not try to stop him. He turned himself over to just feeling, no thoughts, and whispering Ronan’s name over and over and over.

x

Ronan deadpanned, “You’re shitting me.”

Adam held his stare evenly. “I’m not.”

“Parrish, be reasonable.”

“On the contrary, I think you’re the one who’s being _un_ reasonable. And stubborn. Really stubborn.”

Ronan covered his face with his hands and let out a muffled shout. He glared at Adam through the space between his fingers and muttered, “They don’t even _fit_ me anymore. The last time I wore one was when I was eleven.”

Adam didn’t budge. “Did I say you had to wear one of your old ones?”

“ _Adam._ ”

Adam merely crossed his arms. “Ronan, come on. It’s Opal’s birthday, so whatever she says, goes.” A teasing, lopsided grin stretched on his lips as he added, “Even if that means dusting off the onesies.”

Ronan groused, “You’re enjoying this too much, you know.”

Adam shrugged, unbothered. A couple of weeks after Adam’s own birthday had passed, Opal had questioned them, innocuously enough, why she didn’t have a birthday of her own. He and Ronan had taken only one look at each other to decide that yes, Opal needed a birthday, and yes, only she could decide when it would be.

Which just so happened to be today. The onesie request was really just a product of Opal rifling through an old chest in the sitting room and discovering a bundle of family photo albums, one of which contained a photo of Ronan and Declan, both wearing handmade dinosaur onesies with what suspiciously looked like chocolate smeared on their faces. 

“It’s not going to be just you,” Adam reasoned, “We’re all going to have to wear one, or she’s not gonna be happy.”

“She really just wants to see _me_ suffer,” Ronan grumbled. 

Adam rolled his eyes and ran a hand through Ronan’s short, growing hair. “She wants to have _fun._ If it makes you feel any better, Blue told me that she made Gansey’s out of every neon scrap of clothing she had.”

Ronan’s mouth quirked. “She managed that in two days?”

“Plus her own and Henry’s,” Adam said. The three of them had made it through the northern leg of their road trip around the country, and they’d decided to stop by in Henrietta before setting off for the south. They’d timed it conveniently close to when Adam had to leave for Harvard, but Gansey had just shrugged him off and cheekily told him it was just a coincidence. “She said the picture gave her a ‘wave of inspiration.’”

Ronan banged his head against the counter and groaned out, “Of fucking course it did.”

“Ronan, relax. The picture is cute. Just let it be cute.”

“ _Cute?_ ” Ronan nearly spat.

“Yes, you asshole,” Adam retorted, more out of exasperation than anything else. He pulled on Ronan’s shoulders and directed him towards the couch. “Now, get to work. For Opal.”

Ronan mumbled a string of curses underneath his breath, but he sank down on the couch, anyway. “For Opal,” he echoed, and closed his eyes to dream.

x

Adam felt pretty ridiculous in his turtle-print onesie, but the sight of Opal’s delighted face when he walked out of the bathroom made it all worth it.

“You look like a big broccoli,” she sang, twirling around in Ronan’s old dinosaur one. 

Adam caught her wrist just as she tripped over her own hooves, his heart sputtering in his chest. “Careful,” he told her, before deciding to just pick her up instead. Hooves, soft fabric and smooth floors didn’t mix well.

Hiking her securely against his hip, Adam walked out of the hallway and into the kitchen, where Ronan was stationed in his own specially dreamt shark onesie, the only compromise he’d make. He had tried to write out, “Happy Bday” in green icing letters on the cake, but somewhere along the line he’d given up and was just writing a simple, “Opal”. 

“Looking good,” Adam teased, and Opal stifled a giggle into his neck. 

Ronan tossed them both an incendiary glance. “Yes, I fucking do.”

Adam frowned. “Ronan,” he chided, pointedly looking down at Opal.

He just waved a dismissive hand that was covered in frosting. “Nothing she hasn’t heard before.”

A loud knock sounded at the front door. “You’re a horrible influence,” Adam said drily, and carried Opal with him to the door.

He nearly burst into laughter when he opened it and saw Gansey, who looked all too cheery in his highlighter-explosion of a onesie. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, the myriad of colors hurt Adam’s eyes. “Jesus,” he breathed, trying to bite down the laughter rising up his throat.

“It suits him, doesn’t it?” Blue smirked as she stepped inside. Hers was dark blue and made of three different polka-dot patterns. She grinned at Opal and pressed a light kiss to her arm in greeting.

Opal, for her part, didn’t even try to hide her laughter— she was positively _cackling,_ which for her, sounded more like a creature shrieking than anything else. 

Gansey adjusted the skullcap on her head and chuckled himself. “I think it does. What say you, Henry?”

Henry stepped up beside Gansey, a small bag with a bow in his hands. His onesie was entirely purple— it reminded Adam of an eggplant. Or Barney. “I think it’s certainly… _radiant,_ ” he snickered, waving at Opal.

“Good one,” Gansey remarked flatly.

Opal said, “I like it. It’s bright, like the sun.”

Gansey smiled at her, softly. “Thank you. Happy birthday.”

Opal let out a little yelp and squirmed her way out of Adam’s arms, quickly grabbing onto Gansey’s arm to lead him further back into the house. Henry clapped a hand on Adam’s shoulder and followed, but Blue lingered. She peered up at Adam curiously, a knowing sort of smile on her lips as she said, “You look good. Happy.”

Ronan’s howling laughter bellowed throughout the house moments later, and Adam smiled. “I am,” he murmured, reaching out to pat down Blue’s hair like Noah did, once upon a time. “You do, too.”

She swatted at his hand, huffing a bit, but she didn’t drop her smile. “I am,” she echoed, reaching into her backpack and pulled out a small camera. “Now, help me sneak up on Ronan so I can get photo evidence of him and Gansey in their shitty onesies.”

It was going to be quite a night.

x

Eight months of dating, and neither Adam nor Ronan had ever said the words, _I love you_ aloud.

It wasn’t that Adam didn’t love Ronan— no, he was one-hundred percent certain that he was deeply, maddeningly in love with Ronan Niall Lynch. It was not his feelings that he found lacking; it was his fumbling inability to bring himself to translate them into words. _I love you_ — it was such a simple, small combination of words. Less than five syllables. It would take Adam less than two seconds to speak them aloud. 

But two seconds wasn’t enough. Three syllables wasn’t enough. Adam wondered if there were any words in any human language that could properly encapsulate every single thing he felt for Ronan, but he could not think of anything that came close.  

But, maybe he didn’t need to actually say it to make Ronan understand. Maybe he’d already shown it without even realizing it himself. After all, most of the important conversations they’d had about their relationship hadn’t involved speaking at all. A kiss in a childhood memory of a bedroom. A kiss on the porch on a night that felt alive and true.

It was Ronan’s silence now, as they continued to pack away what little Adam had left in his apartment, that spoke volumes more about what he was feeling than anything he could say. He did not miss the way Ronan lingered on each new object he picked up, bringing it to his face and inspecting it— even the most mundane of things, like Adam’s old, battered alarm clock that needed its batteries replaced. He did not miss the fact that Ronan’s side of the apartment was still cluttered with things, while Adam’s was nearly cleaned out and finished. 

Once Adam packed away the last of his half, he felt he had no choice but to prod Ronan into doing _something._ He straightened, straining his neck to peer over Ronan’s shoulder. “I got that when I was ten,” he said, looking down at the transformer Ronan held in his hands. “The first thing I ever bought with my own money.”

Ronan turned it over and over, pulling it apart and pushing it back together. “I always liked Megatron better,” he mused. “Big bad and all that.”

Adam sat down next to him on the mattress and made a face. “Too mainstream.”

“Badass,” Ronan corrected, and placed it carefully into the half-filled plastic bin in front of him. Sighing, he crossed his arms on top of his knees and laid his temple against them, turning his head to look at Adam. “So,” he said.

Adam bumped Ronan’s elbow with his knee, gently. “So,” he echoed. 

They both fell silent, just looking at the other. Adam could clearly see the longing already in Ronan’s eyes— _I don’t want you to go,_ they seemed to say. Not, _please stay._ It was only a subtle difference, but it was a difference that meant more to Adam than he could ever say.

He leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Ronan’s lips, a small, content sound lifting out of his throat as he felt Ronan’s hand slide up the back of his neck, fingers brushing against his hairline. When he pulled back, Adam looked him directly in the eye and whispered, “I’m coming back, you know. I’m not leaving you.”

Ronan rested his forehead against Adam’s, and sighed. “I know.”

“You have me,” Adam continued, taking Ronan’s hand in his and threading their fingers together. “When I’m hundreds of miles away, when everyone leaves— even when we fight and I want to hate you. You’ll always have me.”

Ronan quirked a small, earnest smile, and Adam felt something burst within him, felt his heart stop and turn over in his chest, over and over. _I love you, I love you, I love you—_ “I know.”

Ronan kissed him then, softly, and it felt like truth.

**Author's Note:**

> one month later and i still have too many feelings about these losers in love. i haven't even reread trk yet ya'll. also, i'm still bitter about the whole onesie thing maggie promised us, and i know there's other onesie fic (you all know the one), but u guys. ONESIES. 
> 
> feedback is appreciated ♡


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